The first thing that stunned me about the rifle was the sheer weight of it.

It wasn’t like an illusion, a fantasy of revenge, it was there!

It was real.

I could feel the thin rubber butt of it against my shoulder, pressed tightly. Snug as a bug in a rug. The butt, there to offer at least some level of comfort from the wooden stock that would slam into my shoulder when I squeezed the trigger.

It was so easy.

Click. Boom. Bye. That’s it…but it’s different when holding it.

Mental abstractions, like fantasies, are weightless. There is no bulk to a plan, ideas don’t possess mass. Thoughts are not solid.

And that little bit of pressure, so small in abstraction at 3 pounds, required to produce that first click, and then that simple and unreversable chain of events that lead ultimately to death, destruction, and mortality…felt massive outside the world of fantasy and in the world of the real.

But, it’s been done. It’s over. And now there’s only the wait, while the sirens close in, and the screams fade away, and time marches on for the betterment of humanity.




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12 August 2004